Aftermath
by winedark
Summary: Thomas wakes up to discover the last week of his life was an elaborate simulation manufactured by WICKED. Set after the last book.


Aftermath

* * *

Thomas jolted upright and jerked all the tubes in his body. Memories broke the fragile dam inside his head, overwhelming in their love and loss. He almost doubled over trying to regain control of them. Thomas brushed the sweat from his forehead. The slick device on his finger made it hard. That machine connected to a larger operating system beside him. All the wires did. Thomas started tugging them off—most left small pores in his skin, which he ignored. An attendant hovered by the door. His slight shift in movement drew Thomas's attention toward him. The nurse hadn't stopped him.

The man wasn't a nurse at all. Rat Man—Jansen—waited for Thomas to acknowledge him on the far side of the room. His mind almost collapsed from the overwhelming implications.

"You're dead." Thomas said. Not much of an argument when the man stood there smiling at him. "I killed you." He swallowed and glanced at his hands. The scars from the fight to escape WICKED H.Q had disappeared.

"An illusion. An elaborate scenario to finally get the data we needed." Jansen took a step forward, but Thomas stiffened. His body shook so hard that he stopped. "It's over Thomas. The blueprint is complete."

"Brenda." Thomas said. "Minho." He inhaled deeply and scrambled to his feet. "Where are my friends?" On assumption, everything WICKED claimed was a lie. Lies within lies within lies. He gritted his teeth. The building had recovered its pristine quality. As if the explosions never happened. It was hard to let those memories go. They were so vivid. Thomas thought WICKED already taught him not to trust himself.

"The cure to the Flare is being created as we speak." Jansen continued. No trace of the disease remained in his eyes. "I thought you would be happier."

Thomas clenched his hands into fists. If it was true then everything he experienced until now was worth it. But he doubted it. Thomas walked toward Jansen and thought about ringing his neck a second time. He wore a hospital gown which constricted his movement, but he would find a way. Maybe use the bulky machinery as a weapon.

Jansen must have read his thoughts. The man retreated a few steps. His gaze hardened. He knew more about Thomas then Thomas did. "Teresa asked to see you." Jansen said and his eyes glistened when Thomas staggered. "Along with another person who you will be glad to see."

Thomas's voice cracked. His vocal cords felt unused but that wasn't the only reason. "Newt?" His breath caught when Jansen nodded.

"The first recipient of the trial antidote. He's responding promisingly." Thomas should probably have felt angry, used, but he would have done gymnastics if he knew how. "The variables concerning him and Teresa were cruel. But key to mapping out the last unknowns of the killzone. A necessary evil."

Thomas stared at him for a moment before he pushed the door open and headed into the hallway. He washed his hands of WICKED—the good and the bad. Jansen called after him, but he kept going toward the lobby. Thomas wondered how long he been asleep. The short walk left him winded. "Guys?" Thomas said. "Newt?" He called a little louder.

It struck Thomas that all his friends might have left. Had maybe returned to their families after the trials. Why would they stay? Thomas hoped they had relatives left. He wanted it for every one of them.

Thomas buried his head in his hands. He heard footsteps behind him and imagined Jansen had caught up with him. Thomas couldn't even summon the will to hate the man anymore. He turned his head just enough to acknowledge him. "Shuck off. I'm done with you guys."

"What the bloody hell kind of reception is that?'

Thomas froze and savored the moment in case he turned around and it was too good to be true. He exhaled slowly.

Newt stood with his arms folded. His hair had gotten even longer and he wore clothes the same pale color as Thomas. As another patient of WICKED's. He came up to Thomas, close enough for him to look into Newt's eyes, and see nothing but intelligence and camaraderie. A long moment passed with Thomas staring into Newt's face just reacquainting himself with the guy he used to know.

"I could kiss you." Thomas said.

Newt lifted an eyebrow. "Not a lot of things surprise WICKED, but I'm betting that would give somebody a heart attack."

Thomas grinned and he pulled his friend into a hug. Newt made a sound of surprise but returned the gesture. "What did those shanks do to you Tommy?" He muttered. Newt sounded like he might be heartsick on Thomas's account. That only made him hug Newt tighter.

As for an explanation—the story of what happened in that made up scenario—Thomas decided to keep it to himself. The words locked up in his throat and he couldn't get them out if he wanted. Newt patted him on the back. He always seemed to know what someone else needed.

"I had the bloody Flare Tommy." Memories from the simulation came back to Thomas in full force. He winced. "You saved me. I would have gone crazy for sure." Newt stepped back and pulled at his hospital bracelet. It struck Thomas that WICKED probably had him under strict observation. "It looks like we all made it though. Even that witch Teresa." He hesitated and glanced up as if concerned Thomas might take offense to that.

Thomas grinned. "That's enough for me." He said.

"Come on, Minho's hanging out downstairs. He was almost as tore up about you as I was." Newt grinned.

"Good that." Thomas followed him without looking back.

* * *

I just finished the book last night and I needed some closure. Ohmygosh Newt. . . I'll never get over what happened to him.


End file.
